Hallucinatory Mammaries
by kirakoff
Summary: The fun one can have with Pickles and unidentified drugs! In which Nathan sees boobs on everyone and decides he wants to bloodwrestle naked with Charles. Nathan/Charles.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Metalocalypse – it belongs to Brandon Small and Tommy Blacha.  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> FFFFFT mentions of penises and boobs and stuff. But that's always fun. :D  
><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> This hasn't been beta'd, but I've proofread it and stuff because in my experience beta's always seem to miss stuff. Eck. Strong possibility that everyone's a little OOC – I haven't written anything that isn't angsty angst angst for a loooong time. Plus, like, first Metalocalypse fic and all. Remember, reviews are fun for everyone!

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><p>When Pickles had come into the living room carrying a strange smelling joint, honestly, none of the guys had really thought much of it. Pickles walked around with stange smelling joints all the time – he also walked around with strange smelling alcohols, ones that burned like the fires of hell when they were swallowed. It was a normal, everyday occurrence, and so was his offer to share. So, sitting back on the couches with a hardcore porno playing on the TV, they had all taken a puff, and settled down to relax and get high. Nathan had been watching the chick on TV get screwed, vaguely interested in the way she was managing to stay alive even though it looked like she three cocks down her throat suffocating her, and focused on her boobs. They were nice boobs, the sort he liked on his girlfriends. He thought of Rebecca. Rebecca had had nice boobs – it was a shame they had stopped dating, Nathan thought. He could have gone for a fondle at the moment. And maybe something to eat. Cheese. Yeah. Cheese on tits. He giggled, the sound dark and grating and somewhat disturbing. Beside him, Pickles yelped at the sound and scrambled off the couch, muttering about oversized evil octopuses.<p>

Murderface brayed loudly at the sight, and Nathan turned to stare at him. He had been going to yell, but when he actually caught sight of Murderface he stopped. And stared. Murderface had boobs – big, floppy looking ones that somehow sat on the outside of his shirt. Ugh, they were terrifying things. Nathan winced at the sight, and reaching up scrubbed at his eyes. He blinked, and shuddered. No, Murderface still had them, the hairy, wrinkly monstrosities that they were.

Huh. Nathan had always thought Murderface was a guy. He had seen his dick enough times to have it feature in his nightmares – Pickles had assured him it wasn't gay, it was just that Murderface had the sort of genitalia that was in _everyone's_ nightmares – and Murderface sure _acted_ like a man. All grumpy and gross and shit, pissing on every damned thing he saw. That was manly, wasn't it? To pee on things. Marking your territory and shit. So why the fuck did the guy have boobs?

Fuck, had Murderface been some sort of transgender without them knowing? That would explain the gay thing, Nathan thought absently, turning to ask Pickles if he knew. He stopped.

Pickles had tits too. They were a hell of a lot nicer than Murderface's, all cute and freckly and perky, but Nathan had thought Pickles was a guy as well. He blinked, and tried to talk to the redhead. His tongue felt like cotton though, blown up and dry, so when he tried to say, "Why do you have boobs?" it came out as, "Whime ou 've oob?"

Pickles just shrieked loudly and dissolved into a laughing fit, crossing his arms over his chest and obstructing Nathan's view. That was a shame, actually. Nathan closed his eyes and imagined Pickles in a bright green bikini on some tropical beach, holding a fruity looking drink in one hand and a beach ball against his hip with the other. It would have, you known, been nice to think about, except Pickles was kind of balding and bald ladies weren't really all that hot. And his crotch was a fiery mass of red hair that the bikini wasn't really able to hide that well. Ergh. Nathan blanched and opened his eyes quickly, turning to look the other way.

_Holy fuck_.

Skwisgaar's boobs were fucking huge. Big and creamy and firm and fuck, Nathan wouldn't mind putting his head on _those_ for a nap. Except… Skwisgaar. He was a man. So was Toki, Nathan thought, glancing at the Norwegian. Oh. He had nice boobs, too. A little bit bigger than Pickles', with dusky brown nipples, and a dark little mole sitting on the top of the right one.

Nathan tried to stand up to poke at them, put his legs felt like jelly. Deciding it was too much effort, he settled for watching the two Scandinavians argue in a fuddled sounding noise that just left him confused. It was sort of hot. Toki had reached over to smack Skwisgaar, and had instead fallen into his lap, and the two were now giggling madly.

And then they were making out. Well. Okay then.

Nathan watched for a little bit longer, noting confusedly the way Toki and Skwisgaar's boobs seemed to meld together when their chests touched, and found himself wondering if he could write a song about phantom tits.

A silly smile spread across Nathan's face as he reached up to scratch his chin. Yeah. They could have lots of naked girls running around drenched in blood for the music video. Oh, maybe naked mud wrestling. But with blood. That'd be fucking hot. He should go ask Charles.

He still couldn't really stand though, so Nathan ended up sort of crawling out of the living room and into the hallway, where he managed to pull himself to his wobbly feet. Every step made his legs tingle, and his head bob, but despite the growing nausea he stumbled on. Seriously, this was a great idea. Fuck the song, though – that meant he'd have to think, and Nathan didn't really feel like it. No, they could start a blood-wrestling league. Or maybe a naked supermodel agency. Nathan liked naked supermodels.

Charles would like naked supermodels, too, right? Nathan decided he'd have to ask him as soon as he found him. Thankfully, a Klokateer gave him directions to his manager's office, and Nathan left the man feeling slightly violated because he'd had boobs too, and Nathan had wanted a squeeze. They were fucking awful, though, all hard and flat. Ugh. Charles would have better boobs.

And he did, too.

Charles was talking on the phone to someone, the phone held between his ear and shoulder while he clacked away at his computer. He was saying something about venues and revenues and pink battle shoes, the words all blurring together as he sat back in his large chair and snapped something to the person he was talking to. He glanced at Nathan, and motioned for him to come and sit down in one of those big, comfy looking chairs he had.

Nathan didn't need to be told… motioned to… twice, so he stumbled in, managing to knock over a lamp and stub his toe on something invisible on the way, and he flopped into the chair, wondering where his legs had gone.

Damned useless bastards, fucking pissing off on him.

Huffing, Nathan settled back in his seat and watched Charles talk, eyeing his chest. Charles had _awesome_ boobs. They weren't too big and they weren't too small, and they made Charles look a lot cuter. They were flushed a hearty red, and the nipples were all hard and small and adorable. Charles yelled something into the phone, and they bounced as he slammed his fist onto his desk.

Would he get angry if Nathan had a nap on his boobs? He was getting pretty tired, actually. The high was starting to wear off, just leaving him worn out and seeing tits on everyone. Even one of the lamps looked like it had a set. That… couldn't have been normal.

"What? No, you either sign the papers—No, I'm sorry, it's that or nothing! I don't think—"

Charles sounded like he was getting angry. Nathan frowned. Angry Charles was… was bad, wasn't it? He should stop talking to whomever he was talking to. Nathan should tell him so.

Unfortunately, the words came out a blubbered mess, the only coherent thing Nathan had been able to scream was, "TITS!" at the top of his lungs. Charles shot him an annoyed look, and then hurried to assure the phone, which was now sporting a pair of Murderface boobs, that he hadn't said anything.

Nathan yawned. He was pretty tired – maybe he could have a quick nap while he waited for Charles to finish up. He could ask Charles to go and bloodwrestle with him naked later, anyway. Settling down into the chair, Nathan closed his eyes, imagining making out with Charles in a pool of red while a bunch of naked supermodels cheered him on.

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><p>After that little episode, Nathan found he had trouble looking at Charles – or anyone, for that matter – the same. He found himself trying to remember what Charles had looked like with boobs, and then what he'd look like naked, and with boobs. He couldn't decide if Charles would still have a dick or not, but in the end it didn't really matter. Dicks were like… dicks, right? Plus, they weren't really what Nathan was interested in. He was interested in the mental images, the daydreams and the nightdreams of Charles sitting next to him in a red sleeveless dress – kinda like the one Skwisgaar's mum wore – his boobs pressing up against Nathan's arm as he leaned in to whisper something in his ear.<p>

The whole thing was turning into little bit of a problem, actually. Band meetings were becoming incredibly torturous, and Nathan found he hadn't been able to write anything but mopey love songs for the last week. It was fucking ridiculous. It wasn't like he was in love with Charles – no, he was in love with the boobs his strange, stupid mind had conjured up during a bout of substance abuse. But he had to admit, Charles did have kind of a nice smile. And he was sort of cute, in a nerdy little way. He reminded Nathan of the kids he had used to beat up in high school for calling him Tonto.

Except he didn't want to beat up Charles. He wanted to cuddle him. Wait. No, no he didn't. Cuddling was fucking unmetal and Toki's thing. But…

Cuddling with the dress-wearing breast-bearing Charles in his thoughts was really nice. Sort of calming and comfy, even. Fuck, this was becoming a bit of a problem.

Nathan knew he liked boobs. He had always liked boobs. They were warm, and soft, and good for squeezing and stuff. Nathan also knew he'd never really been that attracted to men – sure, there were some guys he thought were sort of hot, but they usually those an… androg… _girly_ guys. Like Skwisgaar. Except the thought of being attracted to Skwisgaar was like… totally unfuckingmetal. Besides, he was currently sort of kind of like not doing Toki at the moment – the two Scandinavians had started to have threesomes together, which Nathan figured had come into being because of their little make out session the other day while everyone was high.

But… Charles was sort of hot. Kind of. And he'd had really nice boobs.

This was getting silly. Stupid. Would Nathan even _like_ Charles, once he got past the imaginary boobs and the crossdressing? He had tried to speak to him more since he'd come back from the dead, and he was generally a nice, agreeable guy. Sure, he didn't let Nathan have tantrums much anymore, but he had said that was because if Nathan threw something out a window and off the edge of Mordhaus he might kill someone down on the ground. And that would just mean another court appearance. Eck.

And maybe he didn't let them spend as much as they wanted, or let them hang out in his office when he was working, but he did pal around with them. Charles was a fun drunk, too, the type of guy who lost all the straight lines and stuffiness when he had had enough alcohol. He tried to joke with them, and stuff. Knock, knock. Who's there? Charles. Charles Offdensen, right? That had been cute. At least he had given the whole thing a go.

So… would it matter, if Charles didn't really have boobs? He was still Charles, and ultimately he had the sort of personality that Nathan was attracted to. And there was the whole cute-nerdy-secret-ninja thing he had going for him, as well. That was just plain metal, that was.

But there was still the whole… gay thing. Nathan didn't really want to be gay. Gays had to wear pink and glitter and shit, and act like total tools. And Nathan sure as hell didn't like musicals.

This required some research.

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><p>Nathan found Charles where Charles always was – in his office. He wasn't on the phone this time, so Nathan figured it would be all right for him to say something.<p>

"Uh, hey, you uh. Know that Alex… Alexander the Great was like, gay and shit, right?"

Charles looked up from the papers he had been overlooking, eyebrow raised as he watched the band frontman looming in his doorway. Before he could say anything, Nathan blundered on.

"And so was Hercules… and that… that guy who had the screwed up ankle. And you know, those. Uh, history jackoffs, they think Hitler was gay, too. That's kind of brutal, yeah?"

"I… suppose." Charles looked a little bit lost. He sat up a bit straighter, and adjusted his tie. Nathan felt a flush of heat rush through him as he imagined tying Charles up with it. "Is there an, uh, reason you're telling me this, Nathan?"

Nathan blinked. What? Oh… oh yeah.

"Um. Yeah. You know… kind of. Those were some pretty brutal guys, right? And you're like… really brutal too. So… are _you_ gay?"

Charles stared at him for a moment, and then a delicate blush bloomed on his cheeks. Nathan felt his belly squirm and his heart thud. Yeah, Charles was definitely a cute nerdy ninja. Cool.

"I… uh. I. Yes. I, uh, am. Is that a problem?" Charles just looked confused and befuddled. Nathan grinned. He had made a nerd ninja confused. Awesome.

He hunkered forward, and stood in front of Charles' desk. "No. That's… pretty cool, actually. So. Like, I was wondering, uh. Would a gay guy find… _me_ att… attrac… _hot_?"

Charles pushed his glasses up his cute little blushy nose, and replied, "I'm sure they would, Nathan." He paused, and glanced at the singer. "Would… would you like for me to arrange to have a homosexual come and, uh, talk to you?"

Nathan blinked. Wait. What?

"Wait. What?"

"Would you like to talk to a homosexual, Nathan? You seem to be very interested in the, uh, subject." Charles seemed to his composure under control, and clearing his throat he sat back in his chair to steeple his fingers across his lap. Charles had a nice looking lap, actually. It looked like a nice place to take a nap.

"Why can't I talk to you?" Nathan asked. Oh, fuck, that'd be right. He'd end up being attracted to Charles but Charles wouldn't be attracted to _him_. But… Charles had just said that gays would find him hot. And Charles was gay, so did that mean he thought Nathan was hot? Nathan hoped so – this conversation was making him sleepy, although that may have been a little bit of his perpetual hangover kicking in.

"Well, I suppose you can talk to me." Charles answered. Nathan nodded, and asked, "So, um. Yeah. Would _you_ say I'm hot?"

Oh, awesome, that fucking cute blush was back. Charles shifted in his seat again, and cleared his throat. Loudly. Nathan waited, staring at how the flush of Charles' embarrassment had disappeared under his shirt's collar. He could just imagine Charles chest stained a gentle pink, the nipples standing on edge. Charles had chesthair, too, though. But… he probably like, washed it and shit, so it was probably soft. Nathan grinned at the thought.

"I, uh, think… this isn't really something…" Charles shot him a confounded look. Nathan just smiled at him. This was turning out to be surprisingly fun – Charles was really attractive when he looked confused. And not much confused Charles.

Charles coughed, and straightened up. He gave a sharp nod, and answered in a slightly strained sounding voice, "Yes, I suppose so. You are an, uh, attractive man. Is there anything else you want, Nathan?"

Nathan beamed at him. This was just… just fucking metal all around. He found he didn't care that Charles didn't have boobs anymore. He was cute and awesome like this.

"No, not really." Nathan said, shuffling over to stand next to Charles. He then leaned over and asked, "So, hyp… hypothet… so, like, if I were to ask you if you wanted to go on a date, would you say yes? It'd be like, really awesome and metal and stuff. If I were to, you know. Ask you. Would you, uh, go?"

Charles stared at him, bewildered. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, and asked in that voice he used when he was either really, really annoyed or really, really shocked, "I… yes? Nathan, are you, uh, asking me… out?"

"Would that be… okay?" Nathan's heart was pounding, now. He really hoped Charles would say yes. They could… could go for a picnic, and feed the yard wolves. Or out to dinner or something. Somewhere classy, though. Charles was a pretty classy guy. Nathan felt his stomach twist.

Charles looked down at his hands, and then back at Nathan. He seemed to thinking about something, having had gotten that look he got when he trying to tell if he was being bullshitted by someone. Finally, he relaxed into his chair, and said, "Yes. That would be, uh, okay, Nathan. Is there somewhere you, uh, had in mind? Something you wanted to do?" Charles pulled out a journal, and flipped through the pages. "I don't have any personal days for about week, but I have a few hours tomorrow afternoon."

Nathan just grinned, and shrugging he answered, "Yeah. Yeah, tomorrow would be fucking awesome! I'll… uh, pick you up? Pick you up whenever you're good. We can go and have… uh, coffee. Down in the kitchens. And, you know. Talk, and bullshit. It'll be totally metal."

Charles smiled indulgently at that, and putting the journal away he agreed, "Yes, alright Nathan. I'll… see you then?"

Actually, he'd see him a dinner but Nathan didn't bother to point that out, instead opting to let out an excited woop before leaning down and pressing a sloppy kiss to Charles cheek. It wasn't smooth and soft like a girls cheek, but warm and slightly bristly. It made Nathan's lips tingle, and grinning he strolled out of the room, wondering what sort of coffee Charles liked. He'd like strong, black coffee – not that pissweak girly chocolate hazelnut stuff Rebecca had liked.

Fuck. Dating Charles, Nathan thought, was going to fucking _awesome_. Even if he didn't have boobs. Maybe Nathan could talk him into crossdressing one day, though. He headed towards his room, wondering if Skwisgaar would mind if he saw Charles walking around dressed like his mum, but with a handgun strapped to his thigh and Nathan's bitemarks covering his bare shoulders.

Tsk, who cared what Skwisgaar thought? Nathan knew that the whole thing was just going to be fucking _brutal_.


End file.
